


A Proposition

by Dr_TJ_Eckleburg



Category: Psycho (1960)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-25
Updated: 2013-08-25
Packaged: 2017-12-24 15:27:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,257
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/941561
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dr_TJ_Eckleburg/pseuds/Dr_TJ_Eckleburg
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A sequel to An Understanding. "Sam stood in the doorway, a formidable figure with shoulders squared. He grinned, and it was a smile that made Norman’s skin prickle in both the most wonderful and most irritating ways possible."</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Proposition

_“Do we have guests in the motel this evening, Norman?”_

_“No, Mother, there’s no one.”_

_“No one? I heard a car, boy. Don’t lie to me.”_

_“Oh. A car. Well—”_

_“So, you did lie to me!”_

_“No, Mother, they weren’t guests. They asked for directions and then turned around and left.”_

_“Is that so?”_

_“Yes, Mother, why would I lie to you?”_

\--

It threatened rain the entire afternoon, but still the earth was dry. At the tail end of twilight, Norman waited in the office, idly flipping through the register and never reading a word of it. The sign remained unlit out front.

It unsettled him to lie to her so. Of course he had kept certain things from her before, but he had never outright lied. It left a bad taste in his mouth, a nagging sickness that could only be assuaged by the occasional swell of pride. He had lied to her, locked her out. It was something to be proud of, wasn’t it?

No. Never.

Perhaps.

Of course, if… _when_ Sam Loomis returned, she would certainly hear the truck again. She heard everything, it seemed. And Norman would have to force yet another story to his tongue. Perhaps with all of the lying he was having to do lately, it would get easier.

He hoped not. He hoped it would never be easy to lie to his mother.

And yet he wanted to.

Norman looked briefly to the highway. One car had passed in the last hour.

After leaving her alone in the cellar again that afternoon, Norman had retreated to his bedroom where small and unornate leather-bound volumes tempted him from his bookshelf. The specimens in those books had always merely been unknown and unnamed men to him, beautiful, exotic men the likes of which he had never encountered in person. But when he looked that afternoon to the picture of one man taking another from behind, their faces seemed to shift. He could do such wonderful things with Sam Loomis, wanted to do such things.

His heartbeat quickened at the thought again that evening, and he shut the registry in the office. He _would_ do such things and he _would_ keep them from her. He knew he could. He had kept similar thoughts from her in the past. He wasn’t so interested in the young women Mother warned him about. 

He wasn’t ashamed. That was it. If Mother ever found out that his most private thoughts were about other men, she would _make him_ ashamed. She would pervert the idea, she would berate him, and guilt would take over. He loved her dearly, but he couldn’t let her take this from him. And so he had always simply nodded and taken her barbs in stride as she lectured him on the evils of women. He kept this one secret locked away deep inside him where no one, not even his mother, could get to it.

Well… until now.

There was a truck pulling up, the same from earlier in the day, and Norman felt his stomach tighten. He put the registry away.

Sam stood in the doorway, a formidable figure with shoulders squared. He grinned, and it was a smile that made Norman’s skin prickle in both the most wonderful and most irritating ways possible.

“C-Couldn’t stay away?” he asked. Of course he stammered.

Sam shrugged. “No, I guess I couldn’t.” And he entered the office with a lazy gait that probably should’ve put Norman at ease. He tapped his thigh with one nervous finger behind the desk.

“You’re alone now.”

Sam laughed. “I left the missus behind. You get a lot more done that way.” He turned and shut the door behind him, making sure to lock it, and Norman swallowed thickly. “I enjoyed this afternoon.”

A blush began to rise in his cheeks. “Yeah,” Norman agreed quickly.

“I’m not going to dance around with you tonight. I have a proposition to make.”

“A proposition?” Norman asked and took a step toward him.

Sam placed his hands on the desk, and they seemed to be a calm reflection of Norman’s nervous ones. Brief and filthy thoughts about the other man’s hands flitted through Norman’s skull.

“Yes,” Sam answered. “I know you’re in the habit of keeping secrets out here.”

Norman’s jaw tensed as his heart plummeted. He shook his head. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Please,” Sam said with a warm smile. “I know something happened to her. I know it happened here. I know Marion’s gone. I don’t want to know where she is. I don’t want to know what happened. I don’t want to know anything more than I already do.”

Norman’s gaze narrowed. He knew too much. He already knew too much. His hands trembled, and he tried desperately to force a smile to his face. “I-I don’t want any trouble. Really, I—”

“I don’t want trouble, either,” Sam said with a dismissive gesture. “I mean it.” And his steady hand covered Norman’s. The contact made him jump at first, but then his heart slowed. There was a spark in his eye that made him want more than anything to trust Sam—it just happened to be the same spark that warned him he shouldn’t. “So relax, Bates.”

He did, perhaps a little. “Norman. Please.”

“Norman.” His smile was confident, distractingly so. “Listen, I might not want trouble, but Lila Crane does. The uh,… _the missus_.” Sam rolled his eyes. “She’s about as ready to believe there’s nothing going on here as I am ready to believe I ever actually would’ve married her sister. I’m here to offer my services, Norman. I want to help you.”

“Help? I don’t need any help.”

“Yes, you do,” he answered firmly. “Lila is going to come down on this place like a tidal wave. I can keep her from doing that.”

“How?”

Sam shrugged and laughed, “Oh, I’ll use my charms, of course! I’ll keep her away, distract her. Also, she’s a woman who’s not from around these parts. Sheriff Chambers will take my word over hers any day of the week.”

“Why are you doing this?”

“Well, I have my price, of course, Norman.”

Norman found himself having some difficulty swallowing the lump in his throat. He smiled nervously. “I don’t have much in the way of money, I’m afraid.”

“I’m not interested in money.” Sam Loomis smirked and circled the desk. “Like I said, I found this afternoon pretty pleasant. You did, too. I don’t think you’ll have any problem with the conditions of this deal of ours.”

“What deal is that?” He stood his ground as Sam approached. Their toes nearly touched when he stopped, and when he spoke again, his voice was hushed; hushed, yes, but it still cut through some fog in Norman’s mind like a knife.

“It’s very simple. I’ll protect you and… whoever else might be here as long as you…” Sam smiled. “As long as you give me what we had this afternoon whenever I ask for it.”

Norman’s gaze narrowed. The fog seeped in again.

“Morning, noon, night,” Sam continued. “If I show up on your doorstep, I expect you to _oblige_ me. And then you won’t have every cop in Fairvale knocking on your door. Simple as that.”

Norman had been waiting for him, had he not? Waiting and letting his mind entertain such filthy things. Some flame within him flared at the very mention of such excitement, but at once, another force charged forward, teeth bared.

“Protect me?” Norman asked coldly. “I’m fully capable of protecting myself. I don’t need you.”

“Well, that has yet to be seen.”

“Listen, I’ve managed here my entire life. I don’t need protection from you or anyone else out there.”

“Norman, I don’t think anyone else out there is knocking on your door, offering the olive branch,” Sam said smoothly.

“No. There are always men like you, men who show up out of the blue with promises and promises too numerous to count, and you always come with a price. Something is always sacrificed.” Norman felt some familiar pang in his chest. He didn’t often think of _that man_ these days. He was long gone and she remained. “Or cast aside, at least.”

“This has happened to you before?” Sam asked.

He swallowed. “No. Not exactly. Not to me.”

“Not to you. Hmm. And are you alone here?” 

“I think you should leave,” Norman said levelly. “Please. Go.”

“No, I don’t think so.”

“Please.”

“Is there someone else here to protect?” 

Norman clenched his jaw as the other man leaned close, and he could smell his cologne. He weakened at the scent. Sam continued, “I don’t want to know if there is, and I won’t try to find out as long as you give me what I want. Think of me as an ally, Norman. Let me help you keep your secrets, whatever they are.”

An ally. It was a term Norman fancied a little more than protector. It was his job—and his job only—to protect Mother. However, an opportunity such as this should not be denied. It could drive them off Mother’s tracks forever. She’d be safe, and Norman was tired, tired of cleaning up after her. Oh, he hated admitting it, but he was. He just wanted her to be safe. The fog cleared again, and he was staring into Sam Loomis’s dark eyes.

“And I hardly see this as blackmail,” Sam continued and brought a finger along Norman’s jaw, his throat. He reveled in the shiver that raced down his spine, and Sam seemed to, as well. The flame low inside him flared. “You want this as much as I do.”

Unseen and claw-like fingers tried vaguely to pull Norman from Sam’s grasp. “I can’t,” he said softly.

“You can. You want to,” Sam insisted. “You threw yourself at me this afternoon. I can see it in your eyes, Norman. And not only that…” He drew his finger down Norman’s chest, his stomach, slowing over his trouser front, and the motel man felt heat rise in his cheeks again. His breath caught in his throat, and Sam smiled before leaning in to press his lips to Norman’s ear. “You’re not exactly unhappy to see me,” he whispered. 

There was some inhuman murmuring in the back of Norman’s skull, but he couldn’t make out any words, and he slipped away from those unseen claws. Arousal knotted his insides, and he wanted so badly to close the inch or so between them. 

Sam Loomis could be the escape he had never been afforded.

Norman could tell himself later as he wallowed in guilt that he did it for her. It was for Mother’s protection, all of it. Everything was for her.

“All right,” he breathed.

But he truly saw it as the most self-indulgent thing he’d ever done.

Sam was more forceful than he had been that afternoon as he brought their mouths together in the dim light of the office. Norman’s knees buckled, and he gripped the front desk for support. It sent his senses and his thoughts kaleidoscoping, a final stroke to their deal. Norman had agreed to this.

And minutes later, he was pinned to the mattress in cabin one, his anxious hands aching to do everything his mind wanted to; but there was just… so much. He wanted to make Sam feel just as he made him feel, to pleasure him, to hurt him, to pin him to the wall and keep him there forever.

Funny, he hardly knew him. But does one really know some piece of wildlife mounted in their parlor? No. Not well, at least. 

He removed Norman’s clothing at a feverish pace, Sam’s cotton shirt rubbing against his bare skin. And there was murmuring somewhere again. Norman couldn’t tell if it was a voice or more than one or just his heartbeat hammering in his ears as Sam sucked hard on the pale length of his throat. He gripped the bed sheets in fistfuls. He couldn’t understand the murmuring.

Or perhaps, he just didn’t want to.

Sam Loomis tore Norman to pieces in that bed, the old headboard slamming into the wall. A hoarse moan escaped Norman’s throat. He couldn’t even tell if it was in pain or pleasure, but he suspected the latter more than the former. Of course it hurt, but pain itself had only ever provoked silence in Norman. It was what lurked just beneath the surface of that pain that made him cry out so.

And still it wouldn’t be the way Sam’s mouth felt against his, the way he gripped Norman’s hips, or the sinful and astonishing lightheadedness he made him feel that would plague the jagged landscape of Norman’s mind days later. It was the friction, exquisite friction between them.

“I’ll see you soon,” Sam said with a smile when he eventually left cabin one, and Norman was a sweaty and sticky mess in the middle of the mattress. The linens stuck to his back as he peeled himself from the bed.

The door to an entire world had opened in cabin number one. And when guilt crept into his mind and kept him awake into the wee hours of the morning, he could tell himself he did it to protect his mother.

But it frightened him how very little of this was actually for her. For now, though, he could only smile to himself. 

Norman had agreed to this.

And thank God he had.


End file.
